


By Directive

by DarkFairytale



Series: Can't Trevor and Philip be (more than) friends? [3]
Category: Travelers (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Hostage Situations, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 19:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15955640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkFairytale/pseuds/DarkFairytale
Summary: For a day that had started so quiet and calm and content, it descended into hellish chaos really damn fast. Because the day that Trevor and Philip found out that Philip liked having his hair played with was also the same day that the team was taken hostage and everything went really, terribly wrong.A pretty typical day for their team, really.





	By Directive

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this fic as a follow-up to my previous two Phevor fics: 'Sunshine and Roses' and 'Living in the Moment' so I have decided to put them all in a series.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

The day that Trevor found out that Philip liked having his hair played with was the same day that Philip also discovered that he liked having his hair played with.

“You’ve never had anybody play with your hair before?” Trevor asked incredulously, dragging his fingers carefully over Philip’s scalp, the soft golden hair parting easily for his fingers.

Philip had his eyes closed, head tilted a little to the side to allow Trevor better access. He was sitting on the floor between Trevor’s thighs, melted back against the couch.

Philip had previously been sitting beside Trevor on the couch and they had been – to use a term popular of the twenty-first -‘making out’.  But then Trevor had smoothed his hand over Philip’s hair a few times and Philip had practically purred at him. Curious, Trevor had dragged the hairband down and off Philip’s ponytail, exploring the newly released strands with his fingers and it hadn’t taken long for Philip to manoeuvre himself to the floor to give Trevor a better angle with which to play with his hair.

“This is the first official relationship I’ve ever had where the person isn’t just using me for sex,” Philip murmured, tipping his head forward as Trevor plaited some of the strands at the back before loosening them again with a slow drag of his fingers. Trevor thought about how Jenny had deceived Philip and frowned unhappily. “No-one’s taken the time with me to do it. Not even my parents,” Philip continued, shrugging lazily, made sleepy by Trevor’s ministrations. Philip’s ease at admitting being isolated and used made Trevor sad. “And Historians chosen for the Traveler program weren’t exactly coddled, so…”

Trevor worried at his lip with his teeth, wanting to say something, to apologise, because he had lived a century or so more than Philip and had had the chances to experience love and family before, even amidst the tragic future they had come from. Philip would only argue that Trevor had also experienced a hundred years of more horrors than Philip and that would be that, because it wasn’t like Trevor could deny it. They had had similar conversations before that had all ended that same way.

“Well hair like yours deserves to be played with,” Trevor decided firmly. “So that is what I’m going to do.”

Philip hummed happily and Trevor smiled at the little smile gracing Philip’s lips. He was beautiful in his calm contentment.

“I have no issue with that,” Philip said, leaning his head to rest it contentedly and drowsily against Trevor’s thigh.

Trevor would have happily stayed there like that for the rest of the day. Unfortunately they only got another half hour.

“Team, we have a new mission related to the drugs case,” McLaren’s voice informed them through their comms. “I’m sending you all co-ordinates. Get there as soon as possible.”

Trevor shifted obediently, accidentally nudging Philip’s head, where it still rested on his thigh.

Philip grumbled.

“We’ve got to go, Phil.”

Philip sighed and started to slowly shift his weight off Trevor, “Fine.”

Trevor grinned, standing up and holding his hand out for Philip to take.

“Can we pick up where we left off later?” Philip asked.

“We can do that any time you want,” Trevor said honestly, coyly, glancing up from retrieving Philip’s discarded hairband to find Philip watching him with open fondness.

Trevor was caught by pleasant surprise when Philip reached out and dragged Trevor in by his shirt to press a firm kiss to his lips. “I’d like that,” Philip murmured, and when Trevor opened his eyes he found Philip’s light blue ones watching him back.

Trevor smiled into one more chaste kiss, before pressing the hairband into Philip’s hand. Philip stepped back to tie his hair back into a ponytail again, looking a little smug for Trevor’s rapt attention at the way that he did it.

“Thought we had to get going, Trev?” Philip sounded smug, too.

Trevor shook himself, mind flying back to the boss’ orders, “Of course, I’ll go and get the van started.”

***

For a day that had started so quiet and calm and content, it descended into hellish chaos really damn fast. Because the day that Trevor and Philip found out that Philip liked having his hair played with was also the same day that the team was taken hostage and everything went really, terribly wrong.

A pretty typical day for their team, really.

***

They had recently been preventing a number of drug deals; stopping the distribution of a bad batch of cocaine – possibly purposeful foul play - which had killed several people who would be vital to various preventions of the upcoming crisis's of the future. While they could have just called the police to stop the deals, the Director wanted the drugs to be sent to and tested by a team of Traveler scientists that had turned up in the city specially for the mission. The team needed to stop the deals and actually take the drugs, so couldn’t involve the authorities. The police and FBI would catch the dealers later, thanks to MacLaren and a couple of convenient tip-offs.

Philip had not been involved in handling or transferring any of the drugs they had encountered. They were bad, yes, so he wouldn’t have taken them in the first place, but MacLaren, Carly and Marcy clearly didn’t want him tempted, which meant that they still didn’t fully trust him with it, and that should have stung, but for once it was just fine with him. He didn’t know if he could trust himself either. He was happy sitting this one out on the outskirts as observation. That was just fine with him.

This mission was supposed to be no different. It was another deal to prevent and another batch of drugs to detain and send on to the Science Team. The deal was to go down in an abandoned building and the team were about to take their positions, having just had a briefing from MacLaren in the deserted parking lot across the street. Philip had foolishly expected it to be as cut and dry as the previous ones. Up until they had been surrounded, ambushed, and as the team surrendered, weapons on the ground and hands in the air, he felt the pressure of the end of a gun barrel pressing into the back of his skull.

“We’re going for a drive,” one of the men said.

Philip had had a moment to internally freak the fuck out over the sight of the gun digging into Trevor’s temple, and the way Trevor was glaring at the man doing the same to Philip, before five cars of various makes pulled up into the lot and they were dragged into one each.

 “This feels uncomfortably familiar,” Philip deadpanned, nervous, about forty minutes later, as they were all cuffed to separate metal chairs that were fixed to the ground.

Fortunately, unlike the time they had had been taken by Vincent Ingram’s men, they hadn’t just been in a car accident, they weren’t drugged, they weren’t on drips or in wheelchairs. The team were in a much better shape this time.

Unfortunately, unlike the last time they were held hostage, MacLaren was captured with them, so nobody knew that they had gone missing. The Science Team would eventually realise when the drugs didn’t get delivered, or another Traveler team learned that the drug bust had failed, or if David didn't hear from Marcy for long enough, but until then they were on their own. Also, the fact that they weren’t in any life-prolonging equipment meant that they probably weren’t going to be kept there very long, and that was just as concerning as the IV drips and catheters had been.

“Who are you?” MacLaren asked.

Philip knew what MacLaren wanted to discern: if these people were Travelers or Faction-types; crazy – but correct – conspiracists (suspicious twenty-first humans who had been increasing in number due to various Traveler incidents around the world); or just twenty-first drug dealers that were pissed off. 

It turned out to be the latter.

They were angry about the previous busts and had somehow figured out who was behind it. They assumed MacLaren to be a bent FBI Agent, taking the drugs under the guise of the authorities and selling it on. Because they had followed them.

The team hadn’t had IDs on them, but that didn’t matter, because they knew enough about them already.

 “It doesn’t matter,” the man who appeared to be the leader said when he had been informed of the lack of IDs, wallets, purses. “We’ll just get them to tell us. Any of you fancy telling us why a bent FBI agent, a single mother, a hospital employee, a college looking-kid and a school boy are all involved in stealing my drugs?” He paused, waited, watching faces for reactions. “You think I’m stupid? We got three of you on camera the third time you fucked us over,” he indicated MacLaren, Carly and Marcy. “It didn’t take long to follow you.” His attention focused back on MacLaren. “What’s the game? Using your position to bust deals and sell on the drugs for your own profit? Got some young, pretty, innocent looking faces to help you out ‘cos no-one will suspect?”

Nobody spoke.

“What about the kid?” He changed tact, rounding towards Trevor. “Who is this mouthy little shit? Gave my guys lip all the way here.” He looked at MacLaren. “He your son?”

Philip glanced at MacLaren and saw his eyes widen a little in surprise at the guess. It wasn’t the first time Trevor had been mistaken for MacLaren’s son, but Philip could tell that he hadn’t expected it here. “He’s not my kid," MacLaren said. 

“You sure about that?” the man asked, vicious. “You picked him up from school three times this week. Either you’re a drug dealer real keen on grooming your lackey, a paedophile, or the kid’s dad.”

“So, the paedophile thing is a little close to home,” Trevor decided to pipe up and Philip closed his eyes and silently willed him to stop. “Had a dodgy football coach. So if you wouldn’t throw accusations around, that would be great.”

There was a crack of sound as Trevor was backhanded around the face. It went quickly downhill after that.

They were all beaten in the end, their captors trying to figure out who might talk first, or what could make the others talk quickest. They had punched, threatened with guns, broken fingers. Carly had spat blood at them. They hadn’t liked that.

They had taken a fancy to Philip because it worked up Marcy; she was protective of him for reasons he still was unsure about.

They had assumed Marcy might break first, because of her innocent appearance, not knowing that the woman beneath the surface could be cold and unmoveable as stone under pressure aimed at her directly.

They had focused on Trevor the most, though. He was the youngest by appearance, had an air of innocence about him and they thought he had strong connections to MacLaren. And to Philip.

Apparently their observations of the team had included spotting Philip and Trevor out walking together, hand in hand.

“Aren’t you going to tell us?” One of the men spoke into Philip’s ear, gripping his chin and keeping his face turned towards where Trevor received another hit, thick globs of blood dripping from his mouth as his head lolled. “Save your little boyfriend from the pain?”

Trevor had looked up at him, locked his gaze, even with one of his eyes blackening before their very eyes. He hadn’t needed to speak. Philip knew not to say a word.

They had vowed to MacLaren, back when MacLaren, Carly and Marcy had first discovered that Philip and Trevor were in a relationship, that they wouldn’t risk the mission for each other. It had been MacLaren’s ultimatum to let them stay together. Protocol 1: The Mission comes first. 

The problem was, Trevor, just as he did the last time they had been held captive, was mouthy, egging them on, keeping their attention on him. Philip knew why Trevor did it; Trevor had lived the longest, had presumably suffered worse, was a self-sacrificing idiot who Philip fucking _loved_ , damn it.

“Suit yourself, fag.” The man behind him pushed Philip’s head hard and Trevor was hit again, the skin of his cheekbone splitting open as something in his face audibly cracked.

“Stop,” Philip pleaded on a whisper, not able to stop tears from welling in his eyes, “Please, stop hurting him.”

“Shall we hurt you instead?” One of them asked, sneering at him, “You about ready tell us what we want, blondie?”

But he didn’t, because Trevor wouldn’t want him to.

And so it went around and around and around. A haze of pain and suffering, in body and mind, at watching his teammates and the love of his life (present and future), receiving such torture.

It got worse, too. Ribs were broken, knives were produced. MacLaren was shot through the foot.

It was a real fucking mess.

It became punishment, rather than a need for information. Their captors didn’t relent, because they realised they liked the power. They were enjoying themselves.

Philip whimpered as another of his fingers was bent backwards and snapped. He could hear Marcy calling to him, subtly urging him to hold it together. He could tell MacLaren and Carly were worried he’d break first. He wasn’t made for this. That’s what Trevor always said. Philip was a lover, not a fighter; he was uncomfortable with a gun, not violent or confrontational in any way. Trevor, on the other hand…

“Boys, you bored of me already?” Trevor piped up, clearly stressed at seeing Philip’s face screwed up in so much pain and the sounds he was making. Trevor’s voice sounded awful, grating and wheezy. It didn’t sound good at all. It sounded like a punctured fucking lung. One of his eyes was swelled shut, the other hazy, but focused worriedly on Philip.

“There’s not much left of you,” one of their captors laughed at Trevor's question. “Maybe we should cut off those giant balls of yours, kid. You’re taking all this better than your daddy.”

MacLaren snarled at them. He looked a state as well, bleeding out slowly from his foot and his other wounds looked stark against his paling skin. Marcy was drifting in and out of consciousness from a punch that had hit just a tad too hard, leaving Philip afraid for her host body once again. Carly’s teeth were bloody as she bared them, holding herself funny in her chair from a hit that hadn’t sounded good on impact.

They were about to turn back to Philip, maybe break some more fingers, though he honestly wasn’t sure which ones were left to break, when Trevor diverted their attention again.

“You know, you have such eloquence in your threats,” Trevor said, light, amiable and polite even in its clear sarcasm, even as he coughed up some more blood that left Philip’s stomach clenching in fear. He just needed to get to Trevor. He needed to get to Trevor.

“You’re asking for it kid,” one of the captors snarled as another turned around and hit Trevor so hard that Trevor let out a horrible wheeze, and he slumped forward, unconscious.

Thankfully, thank fucking Christ, Boyd and a team of Travelers Philip hadn’t yet met stormed the building not long afterwards. Apparently it hadn't even been David who had tipped them off; Marcy had told him not to expect her home until the next evening. It had been Grace, of all people. Grace had known about their mission and when Trevor hadn’t turned up at school the next morning, got in touch with Boyd. Seriously; Trevor’s school attendance and _Grace_ had saved them, of all things. Philip would laugh, if he wasn’t so fucking terrified for Trevor, and so in pain himself, and now aware that they had been there for a whole night.

The moment the drug dealers were down and Philip released he was staggering, dragging himself over to Trevor’s chair, where Trevor still hung forward against his restraints, his beautiful face an absolute mess.

“Trevor?” Philip whispered to him, “It’s ok, it’s ok, it’s over. We’re going to fix you up.” His fingers protested him holding Trevor’s face, but he did it anyway, and when one of the other team of Travelers cut Trevor’s ties, Philip guided him down to the floor as gently as he could, fingers shrieking at him in protest. “Trev? It’s Phil. Can you hear me?” Philip asked, tearful, unable to be relieved they were free when none of them were truly in the clear yet.

“Phil?” Trevor murmured, hitching breaths, cracking his good eye open to look up at him.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Philip said, cradling Trevor’s head in his lap, stroking Trevor’s short hair comfortingly with his broken fingers, careful to avoid any areas of major bruising on Trevor’s face and skull. “It’s me.”

“‘M sup’osed t’stroke _your_ hair,” Trevor protested on a slur.

“Yes, well, it’s your turn,” Philip chided. That quiet afternoon together seemed like a lifetime ago. “Once you’re all healed up, you can stroke my hair as much as you like, ok?”

“’kay,” Trevor agreed, eye slipping closed again, causing Philip to carefully jostle him, talking to him to keep him awake.

“I need a doctor over here,” Philip snapped at all the people in the room. Marcy stumbled over to kneel beside them. She looked truly unwell, like she might pass out at any second. "Another doctor,” Philip snapped at the other team of Travelers. “ _Do something_.”

Minutes later a team of Traveler doctors turned up, having received a Messenger. There were enough doctors for everybody. But while they _could_ do something, apparently they couldn’t do everything.

“We have nanites,” the head of the doctor team stated. “But by Directive only.”

Philip’s stomach dropped. The only Travelers related to their team that had received nanites before were MacLaren and Grace; the rest clearly deemed too unimportant for limited supplies and left to take far longer routes of recovery.

“Directive for who?” MacLaren asked, managing to sound a strange combination of faint and authoritative at the same time.

“Travelers 3468, 3569, 3465 and 3326.”

“Not 0115?” Carly prompted, concerned.

“Just those four.”

“No,” Philip snapped instantly. “I don’t need them as much as Trevor does. None of us do. Give some to him.”

“Nanites are by Directive only,” the man repeated.

“I don’t give a fuck!” Philip shouted, voice hoarse.

"Philip," MacLaren warned softly, concerned for his team, but also worried about them stepping out of line with another team that could report them for any breaking of protocols.

“There are five of us,” Carly snapped at the doctor, joining Philip in his anger. “Just share it out.”

“Protocol 1,” the doctor said. “Directive.”

Philip was suddenly seething, cradling Trevor’s head carefully, protectively to his chest.

“I don’t understand!” Philip cried out, furious, looking wildly to his teammates for support. “Why do they think he isn’t worth it? When he grew you a goddamn organ,” he looked imploringly at MacLaren, “They didn’t give him anything to recover! If Grace hadn’t broken the rules and shared her nanites with him, he’d still be paralysed after getting shot! When Abigail couldn’t finish the Galston mission the Director sent Trevor in with the bomb! Why do they not care about him? Why isn’t he important enough to be given help?!”

“I don’t know,” MacLaren admitted, defeated.

“Help me,” Philip pleaded, looking to Carly and Marcy, the latter of which had a glazed look of someone with severe concussion. “Help him.” He turned his stare back to MacLaren. “This isn’t me breaking Protocol 1. This is because we all care for him. We need him on our team. He keeps us together. He took hits tonight for us. Please.”  
  
While Philip had well and truly thrown any Traveler-teammate propriety out the window, MacLaren had been glancing at Trevor worriedly, torn between checking on his teammate like he wanted to, and keeping his distance for appearance's sake while in the presence of so many other Travelers that weren't team, weren't family. Luckily, that meant that he didn't need much persuading from Philip before he was turning to the doctors.

“Share it out between the five of us,” MacLaren ordered of them immediately. 

“Directive…” the traveler started.

“We will all still heal,” MacLaren argued.

“Slower than needed.”

“Our performance will not suffer,” MacLaren promised, demanded. “Give Trevor a share. If there are any consequences from the Director, we’ll take responsibility and deal with them.”

Philip collapsed in relief as the doctors finally broke under the hard stares of MacLaren and Carly. He bent his head to rest his forehead carefully against Trevor’s. He reached out to clasp Marcy’s hand, as her other hand kept a careful check on Trevor’s pulse. Despite looking woozy and exhausted, she was still taking care of them.

Trevor had been unconscious through the whole exchange. Oblivious to the fact that his team had fought for his life, fought against the ‘By Directive’, and had, for now, won.

“You’ll be fine,” Philip promised to him on a breath that no-one else could hear. He felt dizzy and sick, and a little like crying at the pain he was in, but he remained strong in that moment for Trevor. “The Director might not care about you but I do. We do. I do. I love you. Your team loves you.”

***

Trevor woke with a gasp of phantom pain, lurching upwards in a wild attempt to sit up. Gentle hands caught him and guided him back down.

“Hey, hey, you’re ok. You’re ok. It’s me, Philip. I’m here.”

“Philip?” Trevor asked, voice hoarse from sleep. His body remembered pain, but did not seem to be feeling it as much on waking. “What happened?”

“We were taken captive by the drug dealers, remember?”

Trevor remembered. He remembered a gun to Philip’s head, the teams’ heads. He remembered the looks of pain on their faces. The look of agony on Philip’s face as they had broken his fingers.

“Are you ok?” Trevor asked, squinting his eyes open and flinching back against the light a little, before his gaze finally settled on Philip’s face. Philip looked ok, bruises mostly faded, he mostly looked relieved. They were back in their base; Trevor in Philip's bed - which had been  _their_ bed for some time now - and Philip was sitting on the edge of it, beside Trevor's hip, looking down at him.

“Am I ok?” Philip laughed incredulously, wobbly. “It’s you that you should be worried about. You and your self-sacrificing.”

“Hey,” Trevor reached up with a heavy arm to carefully smooth over the tremble of Philip’s bottom lip. Philip clutched Trevor’s hand briefly to his lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “I’m ok. I don’t know how I feel so good, but…”

“You were given nanites,” Philip said, “Not a full dose but…”

Trevor frowned in confusion. “They’ve never given me them before…” he paused, watching Philip’s facial expression shift, “Oh,” he realised, “Like when Grace gave me some of hers?”

Philip nodded, “They didn’t give you any,” he confirmed, tone angry and bitter.

“Then whose did I take?” Trevor tried to push himself up again and groaned quietly. “Not yours? You needed those to heal fully…your fingers…”

Philip waved them in front of Trevor’s face, “They are fine, see? You got some of mine, but not a full half, because you got some of mine, some of MacLaren’s…” he trailed off, looking guilty.

Trevor knew what that meant. “And Marcy and Carly's too?" he guessed, accurately, from the look on Philip's face. "Marcy and Carly were given some by Directive too, weren’t they?”

“I just don’t get it,” Philip grumbled. “MacLaren’s been given some before, sure, but Marcy wasn’t given any by Directive before when she needed them, and me and Carly? I’m surprised the Director even cares who we are.”

“The team has clearly proven their worth. You’re a talented historian, Philip,” Trevor said, “You need your fingers to use your computer. You’re an asset. Marcy has proven her worth as a doctor multiple times. Carly, they need someone like her to make the tough decisions.”

“And you are one of the best engineers from the future!” Philip argued fiercely. “The rest of us are way lower down the food-chain than you. You’re 0115! Within the first hundred and twenty travelers! How can we be given some and you not?”

Trevor shrugged, shifting his gaze. “I’m older than any living human, any future human. Maybe they want to right the course of nature. Maybe they think I know too much for having lived so long. Maybe whoever is running things in the future right now sees me as a potential threat.”

“You grew and gave an organ, and they made you heal from it without nanites. They ordered you to blow yourself up to destroy Galston. They were going to leave you paralysed after you and Grace were shot. You are a good person. An incredible person, Trevor. Kind, thoughtful, I’ve never known anyone like you. I don’t doubt for a second that this is the way you’ve always been. So why are they being so cruel to you?”

Trevor kept his eyes from Philip’s face, because he knew the look of anguish he’d likely see on his face. It was difficult, because Trevor honestly didn’t know either; a little bewildered at the careless treatment he had been so far given. He knew he wasn't high ranking, nor had he expected any special treatment - he had been a test subject, an experiment, more than anything - but even so, in the future he had left, he had been relatively well liked. “You know enough about my past, Phil, so honestly? Your guess would be as good as mine.” 

“I just hate that they want to hurt you,” Philip said, lacing their fingers together again. “Look at me,” he begged, and Trevor obeyed, because Philip deserved to be seen. “I know I promised to MacLaren that I wouldn’t pick you over the mission, but I’m afraid they will keep trying to sacrifice you.”

“They might,” Trevor admitted, because it seemed like they had been happy to so far, for whatever reason.

“Doesn’t that bother you?”

“I’ve lived longer than I had any right to.”

“You volunteered,” Philip winced, knowing he was breaking Protocol 2H by acknowledging he had been updated on the team’s pasts, but Trevor had already guessed as much; he knew enough about how the system worked. “It is your right to have lived that long, because they accepted and kept transferring your conscience.” He paused. “I’m sorry. I just…it’s sometimes hard to remember where 3326 ends and Philip starts. The lines have gotten blurred. I’m older than this college kid and looked totally different in the future and yet, I feel more myself being this person. And I love you; the 0115 I know, the Trevor-0115, and I’m scared that they are going to take you away from me for being the past 0115s…”

“The lines blur for me too,” Trevor admitted. “Each time I’ve had a new face, a new name, a new age, I’ve found it easier and easier to slip into the role, become that person. I know that you love an eighteen year old kid with my mind, just like I love a college kid with the mind of 3326. But just as you remember everything of your time in the future, I remember every life I lived before, even as I acclimatise and evolve in this one. It’s likely why they have decided I’m dispensable, Philip. I’m flawed, I’m old, I know a lot of things they probably hoped I’d forgotten. The future has changed since we arrived in the twenty-first and those running things now might not like the idea of…well, me.” There was a moment of silence, and Trevor, hating the sight of Philip’s frown, made certain to visually perk up. “But on the bright side…”

“There’s a bright side?” Philip laughed incredulously, gaze fond even as his forehead remained creased in concern.

“There is,” Trevor smiled, his face still bruised enough to feel it. “They only seem to not care about me when I get myself into a mess. I’m not a target, just dispensable.”

“Oh, how wonderful, that makes it so much better.” Philip rolled his eyes.

“What I mean is, so long as I don’t get myself into trouble, they will leave me be.”

“And how long do you think we are all going to stay out of trouble?” Philip arched a dubious eyebrow.

“A while, I hope. I’d like as much time in the present - with you - as I can get.”

Philip’s smile finally turned soft, and he moved, carefully climbing properly onto the bed beside Trevor. He laid an arm carefully around Trevor’s waist, his lips brushing Trevor’s jaw as he laid his head next to Trevor’s on the pillow. Trevor turned his head to smile at him and Philip pressed his lips to Trevor’s for a brief kiss. Trevor loved him; he loved his passion, his fire, his softness.

“We’ll keep you alive,” Philip promised fiercely, whispered into Trevor’s skin. “We will keep giving you our nanites, we’ll keep saving you. They won’t save you by Directive, but we will keep saving you by choice, just like I chose to love you. Because you are worth it. You belong here. With us. With me.”

Trevor tried to remember back to how many times he had truly felt that he had belonged since his first life, after he had lost everything and volunteered for the Traveler project because he had nothing else to lose but his aging body.

“You know,” Trevor said, reaching up to idly card his fingers gently through Philip’s hair, glad to be close to him again and hoping he’d be given plenty more time with which to spend with him, laugh with him, love him. “I think you might be right.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for two reasons:  
> 1) the very cute video that Leah Cairns put on her Instagram story a while back of her stroking Reilly's hair  
> 2) addressing the fact that Trevor seems the most dispensable member of the team, despite having a much lower/earlier Traveler number than the rest
> 
> I would love, love to see the show address this recurring theme with Trevor in Season 3, because three examples of him being overlooked or sacrificed by the Director is pretty harsh - particularly the time he was going to be left paralysed if Grace hadn't donated some of her nanites. Also, I would love to see a scenario like this played out - Philip pointing out Trevor's treatment - even if it is platonic! Because I love their bromance a lot and I hope we will see more of it in Season 3. 
> 
> Let me know what you think! Comments, kudos, bookmarks and general Traveler chat is most welcome and loved!


End file.
